


Winter's Wolf

by Splat_Dragon



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Animal Instincts, Animal Traits, Animal Transformation, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are Different Personalities, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Soldiers, Depersonalization, Drowning, Eventual Fluff, Harm to Children, Human Experimentation, Infant Death, Killing as a Child, Near Drowning, Not a romance, One Character has Animal Ears, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Bucky Barnes, Tags Are Hard, Violence, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Wolf Instincts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24635245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splat_Dragon/pseuds/Splat_Dragon
Summary: The Winter Soldier was becoming defective.The wipes were wearing off faster and faster. They had to put him into cryo more and more, and he kept attacking his handlers. So HYDRA stepped up their experimenting--a soldier, more than one, if they could manage it, with the mind of an animal, but more intelligent, so it would obey them, but only them, without needing to be wiped. Trained by the Winter Soldier, they'd have all they ever needed.They never intended on the Soldier getting attached.They never intended on their new Asset being capable of thought.They never intended on the Soldier breaking free of his brainwashing, and taking their new Asset with him.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	1. I show up with heart ablazing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The design of the wolf in this story is based off of the Denholm Dump, which can be found [here](https://www.deviantart.com/monoflax/art/Denholm-Dump-772202510)! The art is wonderful, and I highly recommend a look.

###  _I show up with heart ablazing_  
~Waiting in the Wings, Eden Espinosa

The first thing She clearly remembers is warmth and wriggling bodies.

She’d been one of them, She could say that now. But they’d been beside Her, under Her, all around Her. Whining and wriggling, twisting and sobbing. Some had wailed instead, and She hadn’t been able to speak but She’d wanted to if only it could make them shut up. Others had made some horrible amalgamation of the sounds, wailing whimpers that turned into squeaking whines.

Those were usually the ones She woke up to find limp and cold, and then gone, lifted away by The Hands. The Ones That Wailed followed, until only Those That Whined were left.

As She grew, even with only Those That Whined left behind, they became packed in. Piled on top of each other, with them under Her, above Her, around Her, as they’d been when Those That Wailed and Those That Squeaked were still there. She didn’t know where they’d gone, or why The Hands had taken them, but a few of Those That Whined went cold and still and were taken too.

She didn’t know what it meant to want, but She didn’t want to be packed in anymore. It was uncomfortable, too warm and too tight. So though She didn’t know where The Hands took them, sometimes She wished She would wake cold and limp to be taken somewhere Not Warm and Not Tight.

  
  


Her gums _hurt_ , and She discovered pain. It was the same day She discovered Her teeth, when one of Those That Whined slammed their arms into Her face and She _bit_. There was an awful squeal, and She had space. It wasn’t much, but it was some, so She stretched out and enjoyed it, basking in not having to curl into a ball.

She tasted metal on Her tongue.

  
  


The One She Bit went cold and limp while She slept, and She watched as The Hands removed it. For the first time, She could see beyond Them, and tilted Her head, squinting and taking Them in. White, so much white, white glistening off something black, and as She watched They stepped back, holding The One She Bit and dropping It on something loud. She flinched, then growled as They reached for Her, prying Her mouth open and feeling along Her gums, nodding as They felt Her teeth. Nonsensical sounds came from Their mouths, and They put something in Her mouth that flashed brightly, and She whined as it hurt Her eyes.

  
  


None of the others went cold or limp. They grew and they grew, and so did She. They learned to give Her space, for fear of Her teeth drawing red-metal from their skin. If She thought they were too close, all She had to do was growl, and they would whine and squirm away.

They were less awkward, now. Their arms and legs were longer, less chubby, and so were their bodies. She could see outside of their cage, and She woke up one day to sit up, looking around and taking in Her surroundings. Those That Whined laid around Her, and She’d known them Her whole short life, so She took them in first.

They were four, though She couldn’t count yet, and with Her they made five. One had tufted ears sticking out of its head, and when it cried it had a mouthful of sharp needle-teeth. It was bald, though the rest had hair, and its eyes were as grey as its ears. Another was covered in blond hair, She couldn’t see any skin, and when it blinked at Her it had blue-blue eyes. She growled, and it opened its mouth to whimper (it didn’t have any teeth), and looked at the one besides it, with fluffy red hair and green-grey eyes, furry brown ears on the sides of its head where the first had them on the top. One laid at her feet, whining weakly, and She dismissed it even as She looked it over, taking in its too-long face and lack of ears, bushy white tail and silver eyes that blinked at Her lazily.

It went limp as She watched, and was cold before They came.

  
  


They grew, and they grew, and She grew and grew. They were bigger than Her, but they feared Her. One tried to bite Her, only once, the one with red hair, and She’d bit it so hard They had had to tend it to stop the bleeding. 

The Ones That Whined left her be after that. As they became more mobile, all She had to do was growl or bare Her teeth, and they’d settle down.

  
  


The day She first tried to stand, everything changed.

She braced Her hands against the ground—it wasn’t the ground, not really, but Her whole world had been the cradle so to Her it was. She stood, wobbling on Her feet, and braced Her palms against the glass walls of the cradle as She looked around. Everything was _so_ big, and _so_ bright, it was all white and grey and shiny, and She saw another one that She’d never seen before, brown hair with grey-brown ears and green-brown-grey-yellow eyes—there was probably a better word for it, but She didn’t know it. She snarled, and it snarled back. Its grey-brown ears flattened down, vanishing into its brown hair, and She growled, and it growled too.

  
  


She yelped as A Hand clasped tight around the back of her neck, and scooped her up like All The Ones That Went Limp. She squirmed and struggled and growled, but they didn’t react at all, and before She could nip they dumped Her into a strange cradle, one that was grey and shiny and, She discovered, _big_ , as She could reach out and put Her hands through the shiny grey things.

And then the world began to move, The Ones That Whined getting further and further away.

  
  


It would be years before she saw any of them again.


	2. Tomorrow, your training intensifies

###  _Tomorrow, your training intensifies_  
~My Lullaby, Suzanne Pleshette

She wasn’t allowed to voice Her opinions, but She didn’t like to be poked.

The Handlers—those that belonged to The Hands—sat Her down often, making those rattling nonsense noises as they shoved things into Her arms, causing Her pain not unlike the one time She had been bitten. She struggled once, and had never done it again, a sharp pain in Her side turning into burning, that had left Her convulsing until She’d wet Herself.

She hadn’t done it again, and let The Handlers do as they wished. They drew blood, and pulled hairs from Her head and Her ears and Her bushy tail, shone lights into Her eyes and shocked Her again when She squinted, wrenching Her ear and sending pain shooting through Her skull when She cried out.

  
  


She didn’t know how to measure time, or how to count, but a long time had passed since She had seen The Ones That Whined. She was growing, She could tell, could stand without having to push off the ground and walk without having to hold Herself up.

  
  


She wasn’t allowed to learn on Her own time. She was made to learn to run immediately, strapped to a tread-mill as soon as She was consistently walking, and fell and scraped and hurt until finally She was running, if only to keep from being dragged along the belt. Her tail had hurt for weeks, chunks of fur torn out after being caught up after falling, and She’d practiced running as best She could to keep from ever falling again.  
  


It wasn’t long after She learned to run when things changed again. She was taken out of Her grey cradle, and given a room. It was a small room, and basic, four walls and a door and no bed, but She didn’t know what a bed was and couldn’t miss what She’d never had. So when She was inside She practiced running, and slept curled into a ball, fluffy brown-grey tail serving as a pillow.

She grew taller. Longer, more lanky. Though She never saw a mirror, She could see it in the way Her tail became less clumsy, stopped dragging along the ground. Her fingers more easily wrapped around the handles of the weapons they gave Her, and The Handlers weren’t quite so tall.

  
  


When She was hip tall to the shortest Handler, she met The Soldier for the first time.

She’d been led into a large, almost empty room, not unlike Her room but much, much larger. Every Handler She had ever seen stood around, some playing with tech She had no name for, but She was used to having pointed at Her, others holding the weapons that made Her convulse and _burned_ , others the weapons that She had to leap around and dodge and, when She failed, had to be dug out.

Her ears wanted to flatten back, but She knew better, so She settled for swishing Her tail and sniffing the air. There were scents that were just barely familiar, and She sniff-sniff-sniffed, until Her Handler that was just behind Her yanked at Her hair and She stopped, lowering Her head until She was standing as normal, still testing the air.

  
  


A door on the other side of the room opened abruptly, and the scents grew stronger as more creatures that looked like the Handlers walked out, leading The Ones That Whined, and several others. Her ears perked, even as She bared her teeth, The Ones That Whined doing the same. There were others, too, some with ears, others with tails, some with both or neither, some covered in fur, some completely bald, which She’d never seen.

Her Handler tugged Her leash back, and led Her over to where the Handlers with the technology waited. The Ones That Whined and the others were spread throughout the building. She tried to look as loud noises broke out, but a sharp jerk on Her leash corrected Her.

She was pulled to a stop, and finally allowed to look around. The Ones That Whined and the others were fighting, one on one, and already some lay unmoving in pools of red-metal. The smell was strong in the air, and saliva pooled in Her mouth.

Movement out of the corner of Her eye made Her look, tilting Her head just so, and She startled—a man stood in the shadows, unlike She’d ever seen before. He was no Handler, unlike anyone She’d seen in Her short life. His brown hair was too long ( _that’s against The Rules, only She has long hair!_ ), and covered in bulky black clothing ( _that’s against The Rules! Only She wears anything other than baggy white!_ ), and though he had no fluffy ears or tail his leftmost arm was shiny and grey like the tables they poked her on and her second cradle.

His face was covered in a different way than the Handlers, mouth and nose covered where they covered their eyes, and She was _fairly_ certain that was against The Rules but She didn’t cover her face at all so She didn’t know. His blank blue eyes locked on Her, and She felt judged, before he tilted his head to scan the rest of the room, taking in the slaughter, the winners having been leashed and dragged back, only a few pairs still fighting, some with knives, others with claws and fangs. She felt jittery, the scent of red-metal making Her heart race, and it was only Her training and the leash around Her neck that kept Her from joining in.

  
  


Her Handlers barked something at each other in that language that She was only just beginning to understand, and then one of The Ones That Whined, the one with fluffy brown ears where The Handlers had theirs and red hair, was led over to her, his face covered with blood. He snarled at Her, and She returned it, a sharp yank to Her tail making Her yelp and bite Her tongue.

She recognized the command She was given, and the moment they were let off their leashes She was on him, body elongating, reveling in the way his face twisted in confusion, then horror, as Her bones shifted and broke and twisted, Her face bulging and extending to make room for more, deadlier teeth, palms becoming tougher and bulging as She grew paw-pads, nails darkening and extending into blunt claws, the grey-brown-cream fur of Her tail spreading across Her body until there wasn’t an inch of skin visible. Green-brown-grey-yellow eyes turned shiny-yellow, and Her baby-growl becoming a chest-deep snarl that made him squeal in fear and stagger back.

He hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs, and from there he never stood a chance. Even being only a pup, She stood twice his height, and nearly three times his weight, and crashed down on him hard enough that his ribs _pop-pop-popped_ , before he could scream Her fangs were on his throat and biting down with a crunch and then a sharp _pop!_ as hot red-metal filled Her mouth, the boy going limp beneath Her, though not cold, like so many of Those from when She was small and weak.

She pulled back, licking Her lips and basking in the taste of red-metal, leaning down to bite and taste more, only for a hand to grasp tight in Her scruff and haul Her back. Without thinking, She twisted and snapped fangs that dripped red-metal, only for a crushing pain to slam into Her side and send Her flying; She flew and flew, until finally She slammed painfully into the wall and slid down with a whine.

Slowly, She opened her eyes and saw the man, the one who broke The Rules but was allowed to, standing tall over the corpse of The One That Was Still, staring blankly at Her. She wheezed, struggling to catch Her breath even as one of Her Handlers approached and barked a command, clasping the leash to Her collar even before She was fully human and yanking Her to her feet.

  
  


She learned an important lesson that day:

Never, _n_ _ever_ , turn your teeth against a Handler.


	3. One day when you're big and strong; You will be a king

###  _One day when you're big and strong  
You will be a king_  
~My Lullaby, Suzanne Pleshette

She grew, and She learned.

From the day in which She saw The Ones That Whined again, She learned more and more.

She barely slept. The moment She was returned to Her cell, She collapsed and slept, often without even taking the time to curl up and rest Her head on Her tail. Her Handlers had Her slipping skins, as She’d taken to calling it, with no other name for it, running the same tests with Her covered in fur as they’d just done with Her in Her skins.

She sprinted on treadmills, over and over, had to run as fast as She could or be flung to the ground, and even Her fastest wasn’t enough more often than not. Running was easier, She had found, when She could drop onto all four of Her paws, but She was not always allowed to, had to wait for that command, a barked _Chetyre!_ before She was allowed to drop down and stretch out, straining Her muscles in a way that satisfied Her in a way She couldn’t put words to, scratching some sort of deep-down itch. Other times, She’d be made to leap up at an abrupt call of _Dva!_ , remaining in Her furs as She continued to sprint on Her hind paws—other times, though, there’d be a call of _Kozha!_ and She’d have to struggle to make the change as She continued to run, bones changing shape and length, fur retreating into flesh, paws turning to feet as She reared up and continued to run—it was _hard_ , but the punishment for failing…

was not something She wanted to think about. She’d suffered it before, and went through all pains not to suffer it again.

  
  


She learned new things.

The treadmills turned into jumps, both with Her furs and without. She was made to leap over ‘rocks’, massive gray things that were hard and rough to the touch and hurt Her palms, sprinting across the room from rock to rock as the weapons shot at Her, stinging pains punching where She’d failed to dodge them in time. Though the rocks hurt Her palms, if She crouched behind them, and was careful to make sure Her tail was behind them too, the hurts couldn’t get to Her, She came to learn.

She learned to climb the walls, to find little dents that She could dig Her fingers into and lean Her weight into, until finally She was on a perch. Learned to leap down and come up in a roll so as to not break a leg, had learned how to run and shift through the pains of broken legs and ankles from those lessons. Learned a great many things, many of which She didn’t have names for, but came to Her naturally after a time, and She couldn’t imagine how She’d lived without it before.

  
  


Her Handlers firmly believed in learning by doing.

She encountered water for the first time the day She learned how to swim.

Her whole life, She’d been fed and watered through a slurry fed to Her in a bottle, shoved at Her and taken away shortly after so She would gulp it down. So when She was led into a room with a massive pool, She had no idea what She was looking at. It was scentless, no matter how much She smelled the air, and moved around for no reason.

Unceremoniously, She was grabbed tight by the nape of Her neck, and flung through the air. She didn’t even have a chance to yelp before She was in the water, sinking like a stone. Her limbs flailed helplessly, and without meaning to She inhaled, swallowing water into Her lungs. Her Handlers watched her from above, their faces rippling, and She had no expectations that they’d help Her—they’d never done so before, so why would they start now?

Her feet slammed against the bottom of the pool, and She kicked off, coughing violently as Her head broke the surface. She flailed, awkwardly managing to make it to the edge and clasping it with Her hands, hauling Herself up and choking up the water She had swallowed. A Handler approached, and before She could react She was being flung in again.

  
  


Again, and again, She was flung into the water. And over and over She struggled, barely managing to make it to the surface, Her flailing becoming more and more natural each time. Finally Her Handlers hauled Her back to Her room for the night.

The next morning, She was brought to the pool that, while She was not allowed to hate, She very much hated, and was commanded _Mekh!_ , slipping skins reluctantly, eyeing the pool with shiny yellow eyes, staying on two legs, having not been commanded _Chetyre!_ finding Herself scooped up (She stood almost as tall as Her Handlers in Her furs) and flung into the water.

While She’d learned to swim the day before, at least somewhat, swimming covered in fur was a completely different beast. It grew heavy, and pulled Her down, though She was more buoyant and came to the surface more easily. Her fingers were shorter, more stubby and Her hands more round, but swimming came more easily and before She knew it was at the edge of the pool. She hauled Herself out, instinctively bracing Herself as She shook out Her dripping fur, finding Herself flung back in before She was even done.

As they had the day before, Her Handlers threw Her in, over and over, watching as She struggled to the surface, slowly improving until it came to Her almost as easily as breathing. Finally, they scooped Her off the floor by Her nape, commanding _Kozha!_ and reluctantly She obeyed, shivering violently as Her teeth chattered together, but She had learned never to show discomfort and so stood tall, ears perked as always and tail at rest.

The next day, She was brought in to find a fake Handler on the floor. It was red, with no clothing or hair or facial features, and no scent She could discern. The wall flickered, and though She twitched Her ears She didn’t react otherwise, instead watching as a pool appeared, Handlers of different ages splashing around inside, seeming to enjoy it. As She watched, one with grey hair began to move like She did when climbing although, of course, made no progress, seeing as they were climbing nothing but air. He began to bob up and down, mouth dipping beneath the water, head lolling back before he vanished beneath the water. Another Handler, a woman with red hair, dove in, coming up with him in her arms, hauling him to the edge.

The pool disappeared, Her ears twitched—She’d never seen _anything_ like this before!—and She could see the grey-haired Handler from an angle, limp and unmoving, the red-haired one kneeling over him. She lowered her head next to the person’s mouth, listening for something, before leaning back and staring at his chest, then pressing her fingers to his wrist.

The Handler sat back, placing one of her palms on the center of the other’s chest, putting her other hand on top of it. She pressed his chest again and again, many times, before looking him over again. Tilting the man’s head back, she pinched his nose, then blew into it—She could see his chest rise. Pulling back, the woman began to shove against his chest again, before repeating. Finally, the man lurched and started coughing, and the woman tilted him on his side as water spilled from his mouth.

  
  


She had _no idea_ what was happening, but Her Handlers always had a reason for something.

So She wasn’t _too_ surprised when, after throwing the strange-red-Handler into the water, She was commanded _Spasaniye!_ and flung into the water. She stretched out, grabbing the strange-red-Handler by a strange arm, kicking off the ground and coughing as She broke the surface, flinging it roughly over the edge before clambering out after it.

What had the Handler done after this? Her memory was fantastic, and She was incredible for Her age, but Her files had Her down as four years old, so Her memory was not good enough as to remember everything of the video. Her ears twitched back, leaning Her head to put the ear atop Her head near its face. What She was supposed to hear, She didn’t know, but She had followed through the motions and so leaned back, fumbling Her hands together against the Handler’s chest and pressing down over and over until

sharp, familiar burning pain that started at Her side, radiating through Her. Her teeth clenched together, and She bit down a yelp—what had She done wrong? But She shook it off, and tried again, pressing harder with each pump, flinching and expecting pain when there was a loud click with each press, something depressing deep enough that Her hands dipped into the red of the Handler, but She must have been doing it right as the Handlers stood back and watched.

She went through the same motions as the red-haired Handler had when She thought She’d done enough compressions (She’d never been taught to count—She got the impression that She was much smarter than Her Handlers thought), tilting the Handler’s head back and pressing Her mouth to the hole where their mouth should have been, exhaling as much as She could before She had to draw back to breathe, pumping over and over and over before breathing into them, until finally She was called off.

How many times She woke to this training, She didn’t know. But by the time they stopped, She was diving into the water before the _-ive!_ had finished leaving Her Handler’s throat, and knew how many compressions to do before breathing—though not with counting, it had become muscle memory.

  
  


When She met someone other than Her Handler’s again, they were like The Ones Who Whined.

She’d been led into the same room as before, four walls and little else, and the Handler-that-broke-The-Rules stood tall not far from the rest of the Handlers, not hiding in the shadows as he had done before. His ice blue eyes looked Her over, before moving to Her Handlers, though he never moved from where he stood, hands loose at his sides, face as blank as the strange-red-Handler’s had been though he had eyes and a nose.

She feared him, for good reason, and so turned Her attention to The Other. They were staring Her down, lips peeled back from their teeth, and while they looked almost exactly like a small Handler their teeth looked as needles.

Before She could do anything else, the leash was unclasped from Her collar, The Other released as well, and twin calls of _Ubiystvo!_ had them moving, lunging towards each other. She snarled, ducking to the side, but they grabbed Her tail and _bit_ , and She twisted, slamming Her fist into the side of their face. They yipped, releasing Her tail, and they fell to the ground in a tangle of snapping milk-teeth and puppy-growls, flailing chubby-fists and spilled blood.

The Other was larger, but She was faster, and though She received a painful bite to Her wrist She slammed Her fist into their nose, feeling it shatter with a satisfying crunch. They squealed and jolted back, shaking their head from side to side, and She lurched up to follow, peeling Her lips back to bare Her fangs. She tried to punch The Other’s face again, but they managed to catch Her fingers in their mouth, biting down with an agonizing crunch. She couldn’t even manage a scream, instead lurching forward and sinking Her teeth into their ears and shaking, desperate to get them to let Her go.

When they finally managed to yank free, still screaming shrilly, their ear stayed behind, still clutched in Her teeth.

  
  


The Other slammed their feet into the ground, thrashing and screaming, and the command of _Ubiystvo!_ was still loud in Her ears. They were weak, distracted and downed, and She still remembered sinking Her fangs into the throat of The One That Was Still, remembered the red-metal hot on her tongue. She was in Her skins, not Her furs, but Her teeth, while not _as_ sharp, were still sharp, so She spat out the ear and lunged, straddling the screaming Other.

She remembered grabbing the head of the strange-red-Handler and yanking it back, how the throat had been bared, and She couldn’t grab The Other’s head the same way, as they were down an ear, so She tangled Her fingers in their long, curly hair and _yanked_ , revealing the throbbing live-vein at the base of their throat. Her ears twitched, listening for a command to stop, but there wasn’t one, and without a heartbeat of hesitation leaned down, spreading Her jaws wide and snapping it closed around their throat, feeling the vein crunch and give way, spilling their life-blood into Her mouth, holding on tight as they gurgled and thrashed beneath Her, but didn’t let go until they were still.

  
  


She was called back to Her Handlers, and found the-Handler-that-broke-The-Rules staring Her down as the others conversed amongst themselves in that nonsense that She was slowly coming to understand, but for the most part tuned out—they never addressed Her, and so it didn’t matter.

  
  


That day She earned a name.

That day she became The Asset.


End file.
